


The Man and the Mask.

by Cliff



Category: A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia (1990), Historical RPF, Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Seven Pillars of Wisdom - T. E. Lawrence, The Letters of T. E. Lawrence - T. E. Lawrence
Genre: Abuse, Adoption, Alternate History, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, England (Country), Family, Friendship, Gen, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kid Fic, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Racist Language, Single Parents, Trauma, War, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliff/pseuds/Cliff
Summary: So maybe he didn't die in 1935? Maybe he faked his death and retreated from public life to a small town in Hampshire?Maybe the Second World War bought him more than bad memories?When a young orphan is evacuated from London in 1942 to escape the Blitz she ends up in the care of a strange recluse. Can this haunted man remove the mask at last?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Evacuation

**Author's Note:**

> This Fic Now has a Tumblr:
> 
> https://the-man-and-the-mask.tumblr.com

_My self-distrusting shyness held a mask, often a mask of indifference or flippancy, before my face, and puzzled me. My thoughts clawed at this apparent peace, wondering what was underneath, knowing that it was only a mask._

_T.E. Lawrence (Seven Pillars of Wisdom.)_

** England 1941 **

The train from London to Lymmington had been crowded to bursting with crying children. Some had screamed and refused to let go of their mothers on the platform. One woman changed her mind and ran after the train in an effort to get her children back… But they hadn’t stopped. She had fallen to her knees as they departed.

Lila wondered what it would be like to have someone love you that much.

Most of the children from Mercy House got off at Bornemouth station. She continued for several hours along with some of the other orphans. Who whispered excitedly. It was the first time they had been unsupervised. They were quite drunk on the idea that they could say what they liked without a Nun hearing them. They huddled together by the windows and stared in wonder at the passing countryside. Most of them hadn't seen so much green in their lives.

No one sat beside her. Or spoke to her. That never changed. The Sisters didn't encourage friendship between the children in general, but particularly not for her.

The ticket collector stared at her a second longer than the others, wrinkling his nose slightly. It wasn't that she didn't notice these things. They just became normal after a while. There was nothing to be done about it. She couldn’t change her colour.

Her body ached. The hard seat made the fresh cuts from Sister Luke's cane on her back and legs throb... Every time she let her mind wander the memory of the beating was there waiting. She shook it out of her head again. _No more of that for a while... Perhaps._ She thought and smiled.

Late afternoon, a bell clanged. "Last stop Lymmington." The conductor cried down the carriage as the train slowed and they disembarked. Standing, disoriented, on the small platform. Holding their small suitcases and bags. The station was tiny and pretty. It reminded Lila of a picture in a storybook that she'd seen once, in Father Brosnans' library. She shook her head again. Making her curls bounce in the way the Sisters never liked. Tried and failed to tame with brushes and pomade and hats.

She told herself it would straighten as she got older. One day, she prayed, she'd wake up with straight blonde hair and blue eyes... And white skin. And then she could be whoever she wanted to be.

A man and woman met them on the platform. They were the Vicar Shelby and his wife. They were led through the little seaside town to the village hall beside the church. There they were given some bread and cheese to eat and told to stand quietly while people came to look at them.

Lila watched as the locals wandered in and spoke to the children. Then took them away, sometimes alone or sometimes in pairs or threes. She wondered what was going to happen to them. Would they be put to work? Would the people be kind or would they be starved or beaten or worse? After all. No one cared about them. It wasn't like they had anywhere else to go.

Still she had hope. Two of the smaller kids were taken by a sweet faced young couple. They ruffled their hair and told them how they longed for children around the house…Another openly said he was looking for farm workers and took two boys a little older than herself.

No one spoke to her. They'd look.... And then turn away. A woman whispered "Who'd take the little Wog?" To her husband.

Lila pushed her fingernails into her palm until it hurt. _Please someone, anyone. Don’t send me back to the Children’s Home. Please._ She prayed silently. As she waited, trying to ignore the throbbing in her legs and back.

She wasn't remotely surprised that she was the last child left in the hall. The Vicar and his wife were clearly tired and wanted to go home. But waited and spoke hopefully to anyone who passed. Only to get a shake of the head and an excuse as to why they simply couldn't take the child.

The Vicar looked despondent he crouched in front of her. "Don't worry dear." He told her "We'll find a spot for you...Oh!" He saw something through the open door and rushed outside for a moment, accosting a  flustered looking man out on the pavement who clearly had no intention of stopping. He spoke to him seriously for a few minutes.

Lila felt sick with fear. She had hoped for a family, or a single woman. It was safer, she didn't want to go with this man. She was relived when he shook his head.... But the Vicar was having none of it. He practically dragged him into the hall.

The man was thinner and shorter than the vicar. And visibly cringed under the arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"Now Mr. Ross you must surely agree that civic duty is important in these troubled times..."

"I don't have space..."

"It's a small child Mr Ross! You won't need much space."

The Vicars wife joined them. Her falsetto whisper echoing around the room.

"Please! We're stuck! She's the last one!"

"And why can't you take her?" He asked in a clear, cultured accent. "Would it not be more appropriate for a Christian couple such as yourselves to take in a young girl?"

They both looked at her briefly and whispered something. He then looked at her for the first time. His eyes were icy blue and piercing.   
There was a flash of sudden anger in them that froze her to the spot.

"I see." He said. Walking over to where she stood, shaking like a leaf. He had a stiff walk, like a soldier.

He looked her up and down. His expression unreadable.

"What's your name? He asked.

"L... Lila sir" she stammered.

“John Ross.” He held up his hand in a kind of salute. 

"And how old are you?"

"Ten years old sir."

"They tell me you're an orphan."

"Yes sir."

"It appears they can't find a place for you to stay." He stated the obvious. “Do you want to go back to London on the last train?”

“No sir!” She said adamantly. Looking him in the eye in a way that she hope communicated her terror of that possibility. Although it wasn’t London itself that scared her, it wasn’t even the bombs. 

Then after a long pause, during which he appeared to struggle with himself, he told her: “I live out on the Island… I’m not much used to children, particularly girls. Can you be quiet and stay out of my way?"

"Yes Sir."

"All right then. Follow me." He said curtly as he picked up her small carpet bag. They walked out of the churchyard and a little way down the street. There were only a few people about but she could feel eyes on them, hear whispers. 

He had a motorbike, with a sidecar, which was loaded up with paper bags. 

“Can you fit in there?” he asked her. Moving a bag of flour and some tins out of the way. “ I wasn’t expecting a passenger. I rarely make it to town these days so this is three week's worth of groceries.”

She climbed in curled up her legs and he placed her own bag on her lap. “It’s not far to the ferry” he said. 

Looking at his paltry rations she wondered if he’d be able to feed an extra person. Not that she was expecting much.

He put on a pair of goggles and a helmet and started the engine. She'd never been on a motorbike before and held on for dear life as he took off. They travelled out of town and through the edge of a large oak forest which looked, to her, like something from a dream of Camelot. Then out along a bumpy coastal road where the sea stretched out into a red sunset. There was a misty Island in the distance. The isle of Wight. She remembered reading about their ferries saving soldiers at Dunkirk two years ago. She was so enchanted that she almost forgot the stinging pain from the beating. Despite the bumpy ride.

They parked on the ferry and she took the chance to stretch her legs. Standing on the deck she leaned on the railings and saw the medieval looking town of Yarmouth becoming clearer as the got closer. She looked up at the man. Mr Ross came to stand beside her. He stared out silently at the sea, she thought there was something strange and sad about his face. She found it hard to read both his age (he could have been anything between 40 and 60 year old) and his expression, something she was usually very good at, and wondered if she could trust him. She was painfully aware that he was taking her far away from anyone who ever knew she existed.

“Was this ferry at Dunkirk Sir?” She couldn’t help asking. Shed been captivated by the stories of ordinary fishermen and sailors saving soldiers from certain death on the French coast. 

“Indeed it was.” He said softly. “They all were, as was I.”

“Y… You were at Dunkirk sir!” She squeaked in surprise.

“Me and many others from the Island… I had no naval experience but having been in the army and owning a boat I couldn’t very well stay behind and let old men and boys go into danger if there was a chance I could help.”

“What was it like?” She whispered. Looking up at him wide eyed.

“Terrible.” He replied. Then said no more. 

The ride across the Island was much longer, and bumpier than the one to the ferry. It was dark and she couldn’t see much, but she could tell it was full of trees and birds, even though they were on a coast road with her sidecar facing the sea. It struck her just how remote they were. And her nervousness grew. _Maybe I should have gone back to London_... She thought. ... _Better the Devil you know._

They finally stopped outside a very small stone fisherman’s cottage. He disembarked and offered her his hand as she got out. Almost as soon as they did they were ambushed by a very loud, happy collie that jumped up on the man and ran in circles of excitement. 

“Easy Kalbi!” He said “Sit!” 

The dog immediately sat at his feet wagging it tail. “He won’t bite.” He murmured, unloading the sidecar. “He’s still a pup, hasn’t learned his manners yet.”

Lila liked Dogs, although she'd never had one, she reached out cautiously and let him lick her hand. “Good boy.” She whispered.

Inside the cottage was very small, rustic and spartan. Beyond the front door was a simple, neat kitchen. A range, a plain wooden table, two chairs and some shelves, with a small, worn out sofa and an armchair in the corner. Instead of flicking a switch, he lit a kerosine oil lamp which he hung up over the table from a hook in the ceiling beam. He then made a fire in the kitchen range to heat a large copper tub of water that rested atop of it. Within minutes the entire room was warm. There was a woodshed outside, he told her, a pump for water, and an outhouse adjacent to the back door.” Be careful if you go out in the dark, there are tree roots to trip on.” 

She saw no sign of a telephone or wireless, but there were shelves of books in every available space … And _maps._ There were maps on all the walls, of far flung places she hadn’t even read about. They looked old and handmade. 

As he busied himself putting away the groceries (everything had its right place she noticed, she had better be extra neat) he said “I don’t have much room here but there’s an attic we can put a bed into… For tonight you can sleep down here on the sofa.” He seemed hurried, almost nervous. He left her then and went through a small door off the kitchen. Craning her neck to see into the room she glimpsed a whitewashed wall and the edge of a bed. “I’ll find a proper mattress tomorrow.” He said, returning with some bedding. Then checked the temperature of the water and lifted it off the stove and carried it through another small door. 

“Come!” he called. 

It was a tiny whitewashed room with a no window. Clearly it was a place to keep coats and boots, a Bucket, a broom and mop and rake and and old fashioned mangle like the ones in the laundry at Mercy House stood against one wall. There wasn't much space to move around. He placed the copper tub down and handed her a rough towel and some soap.

“Wash up if you want.” He told her. “I’ll make something to eat.” 

She noticed the door had no lock and this worried her. Still, she was filthy after the long day’s travelling and a bath with warm water, that hadn't been used by anyone else first, was a rare luxury too good to pass up. 

She put her bag down on the floor and opened it. it contained a second uniform dress, grey with a collar, like the one she wore, a slip, two pairs of drawers, a flannel nightdress, two pairs of wool stockings that came to the knee, and a once white, but now grey, pinafore. She would soon outgrow all of them, including the old shoes she wore. At the orphanage they would get hand me downs from the older girls but she didn’t know what she’d do now. There was also a scrap of her baby blanket, the one she'd been found in. She slept with it under her pillow. 

She undressed carefully, wincing when she saw the stripes of dried blood on her underthings, and lowered herself into the water. It wasn’t too hot but it stung like the Devil when it hit the cuts. She cried out and her vision swam. 

She must have…

Because he opened the door and looked in, with a worried look on his face. Maybe he thought she’d broken something, or injured herself on one of his garden tools. 

She curled into herself instinctively, her lower half was hidden from view by the tub… But he got a clear view of her back and neck. 

He just stared for a long few seconds, his eyes wide, and then shook himself, like he was waking up. Then retreated and shut the door. 

She wanted to sink through a crack in the floor. 

Would he still want to accommodate her if he knew she was a bad child? Only a bad child would deserve a beating like that. And she knew she had scars, from older ones too so he'd know it wasn't the first time. 

After washing she dried off as carefully as she could and changed back into her clothes, minus the shoes, Then crept silently back into the kitchen. 

He was sitting on the edge of a chair by the stove, stiff as a board, staring at nothing. She cleared her throat and he jumped like he’d been burned. 

“E…Excuse me sir… What shall I do with the water?” 

“Oh…” He blinked. “ Leave it… Come here.” He said it without inflection, she didn’t know if she was in trouble of not. She hesitated. She couldn’t breathe. His tone softened and so did his eyes. There was suddenly less stiffness and anger in him. “I won’t hurt you… I just want to see how bad it is.”

She didn’t know why she believed him but she did. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. She walked over to his chair under the oil lamp and he unbuttoned her collar and the back of her dress, pulled the fabric away from her skin and looked down for a moment. He didn’t make a sound, but his breath stopped for a few seconds. She couldn’t look at him. It wasn’t just the humiliation of a strange man looking down her dress... She knew he was seeing not just the fresh cuts on her back and legs, but the fainter, lighter marks from all the past beatings. Permanently tattooed onto her back and arms and legs and stomach and even the soles of her feet. 

“Who did this?” He asked in a shaky voice. She couldn’t answer. It was like her tongue had frozen in her mouth. _Women of God… Holy Sisters of Mercy._ He would either not believe her, or he’d blame her. She stood with her back to him and didn’t make a sound. If she’d turned and looked up she might have seen his uncertainty, his hand hovering, the pain on his face.

When she didn’t reply he sighed slightly, but let it drop and buttoned her up. “I can imagine…” he said carefully “That life in an English orphanage isn’t easy for…”

_For a Wog…_ She thought… _For a Half Caste…For a Coloured… For a Nigger… For a Darkie… What was that the Sisters had called her… Deficient… Unadoptable… A product of sin…. And so a Sinner…_

“…For someone with Eastern ancestry.” He said. “The English have always considered whiteness a virtue.” 

_Eastern ancestry…_ She’d never considered _where_ her colour came from. That somewhere out there there were entire countries of people who look just like her. 

“Aren’t I English too?” she whispered. A sudden lump in her throat. _Aren't you?_ she thought privately. 

“Not to them.” He said. “Your soul may live in the soil of this country…You may love it and love its people… But…” 

“But not to them.” She whispered to herself. Knowing it was true, however cruel. She didn’t think he’d intended the cruelty, he was just telling the truth. 

She looked round and saw that he’d set the table with some toast and butter. When she went to sit down on one of the wooden chairs he hissed. “ “No! Don’t sit there! you’ll make it worse, go and sit on the sofa.” He sounded both worried and irate. He wasn’t wrong, even the pressure and friction of the fabric after the long day was agony. She sat on the old sofa and sank back against the cushions, the exhaustion and fear finally catching up with her. She closed her eyes…

When she woke it was dark.She was confused for the longest time before remembering where she was. It took some time for her eyes to become accustomed to the cold moonlight coming through the small gaps in the curtains. She was fully clothed, lying down on her stomach, a threadbare pillow under her head. There was a blanket over her. She could hear soft breathing coming from the other room. 

On the floor beside the sofa was a plate with a cold piece of buttered toast on it and a cup of something. She wondered what he had thought when she fell asleep before she even had a chance to eat. If he thought it ungrateful. 

At her feet was a solid, warm weight. Kalbi, the dog. was curled there, fast asleep. 

It felt bizarre, if she was honest. Yesterday morning she was limping around the halls of Mercy House, where she had lived her entire life, in her usual fear, loneliness and despair. Now she was lying in a strange house in the middle of nowhere. With a very odd man in the next room, and a dog at her feet, and she wasn’t remotely afraid. for the first time since she could remember.

She stared into the darkness. Wondering what tomorrow would bring. 


	2. Exploring

_Birth seems to me so sorry and squalid an accident…_  
_If fathers and mothers took thought before bringing children into this misery of a world,_  
_only the monsters among them would dare to go through with it._

_T.E. Lawrence. Letter to Mrs Shaw 1924._

Lila woke again, hours later. in daylight. She started, sat up, and whimpered at the stiffness in her back and legs. Having slept in her clothes she felt overheated.

The Dog was gone, the house was silent, and the door to Mr Ross’ room was shut.

She decided to eat last night's toast for breakfast and as she did, she looked around the cottage.

In the daylight it gave a very different impression. The walls were stone, but painted stark white like the rest of the interior. And, as she had noticed last night, covered in maps and small shelves full of books.

The floor was old, darkened slate. But on top of that was a beautiful rug with patterns on it, like a flying carpet from Arabian Nights. On the ceiling was a wooden ladder folded on hinges between the dark beams, presumably it could be pulled down to access the attic space. 

She took the opportunity to look at the large, framed, map above the sofa more closely. It was of the Holy Land... But a long time ago. Still, she knew the place names from Sunday School... _Damascus, Jerusalem, The River Jordan, the Red Sea._ All the Bible stories she had ever heard from Sister Francis came back into her mind.

_“On the road to Damascus Saul and his companions were struck down by a blinding light. Saul heard a voice say, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" When Saul asked who was speaking, the voice replied: "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do."_

“Where were Saul and his friends travelling from?” She wondered out loud, tracing the strange words with her finger. “Haifa? Aqaba?”

“Jerusalem.” Said a voice from behind her.

She turned to see Mr Ross standing by the open door with two buckets of water. She froze. _Am I allowed to stand on the sofa? To look at his maps?_ She knew what would happen to her if she stood on the furniture at Mercy House.

“They aren’t that far apart. Only 135 Miles… Of course back then there were no border checks…” He murmured. Somewhat bitterly.

“S…Sorry sir!” She gulped, climbing down to the floor. I… Shouldn’t have…I was…Just so curious about the Map… She trailed off, feeling sick.

He raised an eyebrow. “ No apology nessiccary for showing an interest in the East…. It was one of my passions too once. I made that map you know.”

“You did?” Her eyes widened, she looked up again at the perfect, delicate script and beautiful watercolour contours. “Did you… Visit the Holy Land?”

He laughed… In that moment his face relaxed and lit up. He looked like a different person. Just for a second. “Yes you could say that… Long ago.”

Then his face shuttered again and the sadness and tension was back. “I’m doing laundry…Change your clothes, bring me the dirty ones and go outside and explore. Introduce yourself to the chickens.” He said hurriedly.

She couldn’t believe her ears. She’d never seen a man do laundry before. She supposed men who live alone had to… But surely he couldn’t do her laundry… That was her job. She had assumed she’d be working here. Why else would he have taken her in?

“Sir…I can do it… We used to work in shifts in the laundry at Mercy House….I can do that for you…And other things…To earn my keep!” She said , squirming awkwardly and staring at her feet.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, and shook his head.

“I can clean for you and cook too! I’ll scrub the floor and… And… Carry firewood…And…”

“Look at me girl!” He said firmly. He fixed his eyes on her and his intense stare made her freeze again. She couldn’t break eye contact if she’d wanted to.

“This isn’t Mercy House… I will ask you to help me with the lighter household chores, to ‘earn your keep’. You may collect eggs, and help me in the garden, and keep things tidy… When, and only when, those… Injuries… “ He blinked briefly and twisted his head strangely ”… On your back have healed entirely... If you do anything much right now they’ll open up again and believe me, an infection near the spine is no laughing matter… So you’ll take it easy for a few days… Understood?”

“Yes sir.” She whispered, suddenly feeling very small and confused.

“Well? Dismissed.” The words were hard but his voice was soft when he said them. He pointed to the closet door and she went to change.

True to what he had told her, there were chickens in the garden. Seven fat hens to be exact. She watched them, fascinated, for hours. One was the leader (Lila unofficially named her ‘Gertie’) and the others followed her wherever she went. Clucking like funny old women.

The garden was small and well kept, with rows of vegetables (She didn’t know what.) and even a small greenhouse. That was at the back of the house. At the front was a small boat and a grassy dune leading to a stoney cove and the sea. There was a track going along the coast and one leading into the trees.

The Sea! She could hear if now, from where she sat. The dog sat wagging his tail beside her.

Her whole life had been spent in the city. Grey concrete and stone were her reality since she could remember. Depravation, hard work, cruelty and violent punishment had been her entire world

Books had taught her that there was a life beyond it. But…Sitting in the green grass on a summer day was something entirely alien to her experience. It felt like a dream. One that she would, no doubt, wake from any second. Because in the history of her entire experience, nothing good had ever lasted.

The seed of fear that had been growing in her heart since she had arrived on the island began to germinate there, as she laughed at the chickens and breathed the sea air.

_Something terrible is going to happen soon. Her heart whispered._

After a while Mr Ross came out of the house with a bucket of damp clothing, which he began to hang between two trees on a long piece of line. She got up and went to help him.

“I thought I told you to talk to the chickens.” He said.

“I’ve met them all, We don’t have a lot in common.” She deadpanned, watching a slight smirk cross his face as he shook out a shirt and pegged it to the line.

She took her slip out of the bucket and noticed that it had no bloodstains on it. He must have boiled everything. Was this his everyday life? Out here, living so remotely, No wife or children, just working away at chores?

“Um… Mister Ross?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you…For washing my clothes…”

“I think I got the blood out…” He murmured. “Still… Your clothing is very worn out and thin. We shall have to find you something warmer before long.

 _Does this mean I’m staying ‘till the end of Summer?_ She wondered. _If the war lasts that long._ She felt a sudden rush of shame that she wanted the war to last longer.

“Go! He said “Off with you, go and play with the Dog or something! Have an adventure...” Waving his hand absently at the garden. “Be back by sunset.”

………..

She and Kalbi wandered down the dune outside the house and onto the stoney little beach area. The Dog was so excited to see the water that he ran in circles before splashing into it, barking all the while.

She spent several hours turning over rocks and finding small crabs and shells and other treasures the likes of which she’d never seen.

She picked up a smooth piece of blue glass and put it in her pocket. Then called Kalbi and headed up the dune and down the little lane the led from the cottage into the woods. The path was rough and had grass growing at the edges. She spotted some strange tracks and followed them, fascinated, for a while.

The tracks led through the trees and into a cleared meadow. There was a small donkey, munching some weeds and staring at her. She reached out her hand but he didn’t approach. Behind him in the field were several sheep.

A little way further was a small farmhouse. Thatched, like the cottage, but bigger. With a small fenced yard. A woman was there, with a baby tied to her back in a shawl. She was feeding chickens and geese. Lila crouched down low in the grass, pulling the dog down beside her. She watched her for a while. Quiet as a mouse.

The woman was strong looking, stocky, not pretty but kind of striking. She had lots of dark hair, flecked with grey. She threw the grain around the yard and called “Chook Chook!” The baby slept through it all… Deciding she looked safe enough Lila rose and walked down the path to the gate, ready to run past it if trouble started. The woman looked up as she approached and Lila waved.

“Good Afternoon!” She called.

The woman frowned and for a moment Lila was sure she’d hurl some hateful epithet at her. But apparently she was just trying to place her.

“Morning’ and who might you be?” Her tone was neutral.

“I’m Lila. I’m an evacuee from London.”

“Oh really? Fancy that! And where might you be staying’ Lila from London?

“With Mr Ross… In the cottage down the way.” She pointed.

“Funny little man? Quiet sort?”

“Thats him.”

The woman raised an eyebrow and said nothing. But was clearly thinking something.

“I’m Margret Browne… People call me Peggy… This is Charlie.” She indicated the child on her back. “His brothers are around here somewhere, there are three of them” She sighed, in a resigned sort of way, then shouted “JACK!… HARRIS!… BARRY!”

“WHAT?” Came a cry from around the back of the house.

“DONT YOU ‘WHAT’ ME OR I’LL CLAP YOU ONE YOU SCALLYWAG! GET OVER HERE!”

A boy a few years older than herself appeared around the wall. He was red faced and covered in hay, in his hand he held a rake.

“Harris this is Lila from London, she’s an evacuee and she lives next door.” Peggy said briefly.

A smaller boy followed him “ That’s Jack… I don’t know where Barry is, probably skiving off somewhere with a girl.” She was so honest and matter of fact! Lila had to surrpress a giggle. The boys waved awkwardly.

“Well… Go show the girl the farm lads. You can knock off the raking for now. She said. 

The idea of “Next door” being more than a mile away fascinated her. In London everything felt so close, all the people were on to of one another. Here everything felt… Strangely isolated, but also friendlier. She'd have never thought of speaking to a stranger in London. These people were so... Different!

The boys, Harris and Jack, were 12 and 8 years old, respectively, and were more than happy to get away from their chores for a while. Neither of them wore shoes and they lept over fences like they weren’t even there. She panted as she tried to keep up with them. As Kalbi ran ahead.

“ This is Iris… Jack told her enthusaticaly introducing their shire horse. A huge beast that absolutely terrified her, although she’d never admit it.

Although he was older, Harris was the shyer of the two and she found herself chatting more to his younger brother. They had 6 cows, a bull named "Charge", several pigs and some goats as well as sheep.

Their main crop was wheat. Jack said that since their father went to the Army it was up to them all to run things on the farm. He hated milking the cows worst. They both felt that their older brother Barry wasn’t pulling his weight lately, since he started ‘stepping out’ with a girl named Sally Figgis.

Lila was astonished at their casual friendliness. She had never in her life had such a conversation with other children. The girls at Mercy house hated her and bullied her every chance they got. These two boys didnt even seem to notice her colour. Well… Until Jack asked “ So where are you from anyway?”

“London.” She replied.

“No I mean where are your family from?”

She knew in her bones that people never trusted orphans. _So maybe I have a family back in London_? She thought. _Whats the harm?_

“ They’re from…” She searched her brain, remembering something Mr Ross had said last night. “…The East.” She said. “Um… you know… The Holy Land… Damascus.” She decided.

“Are they Heathens?” Asked Jack. Harris slapped the side of his brothers head lightly. “Shut up Jack that’s rude!”

“What? Whined Jack. “ Teacher said there were only Heathens and Jews in the Holy Land!”

“They’re Catholic.” She said decidedly. “ They converted.”

“Don’t you miss your parents?”

“Yes…” She said… “ But it’s safer here. They understand.”

“I can’t believe you’re living with old man Ross… He’s an odd duck.”

“A what?”

“Thats what Ma calls him… "An Odd Duck!” He laughed at his own impression of his mother.

“What does that mean?” She asked, feeling a little insulted on his behalf.

“He’s not married.” Said Harris quietly. “He has no children…. He doesn’t go to Church and he hardly speaks to anyone… He’s a bit strange.”

“I heard he was a German spy!” Cried Jack

“Don’t be stupid Jack!” Huffed Harris. “Whose he got to spy on here? The Sheep?”

“Maybe he has a secret two way wireless and he’s sending Hitler messages right now.” Jack retorted.

“No I think I’d have noticed a wireless. He doesn’t even have electricity in his house.” She said.

“ Is he… Nice? To you I mean?” Asked Harris.

“Yes he’s been nice. I don’t really know yet. I only arrived last night.”

There was a high pitched whistle from the house and they looked down the hill. “Tea time." Harris said, We’d better get going.” With that they all ran back down through the field.

It was only when they stood outside the farmhouse, catching their breath in the red glow of evening, that Lila realised the sun was setting. “I have to get back!” She gasped “Nice to meet you!” She waved at them as she ran as fast as she could back up the forest path.

What she hadn’t reckoned on was that she hadn’t payed much attention to her way over, and as twilight descend she began to get confused by the woods, How far had she come? Was it this far getting there? Had she seen that tree before? Oh no! Had there been a fork in the track that she'd missed?

And the nagging voice in her mind kept asking: _What is he going to do to you if you aren’t back when he told you?”_

So she ran, so as to get back faster., and just got more tired and more lost… And the woods got darker. As she ran, her breath became harsh with exhaustion and she began to sob. Eventually she stopped and sank to the ground, sitting on the pine needles. She realised she'd lost Kalbi.

"He’s going to kill me dead! She whimpered “ I lost his dog and disobeyed his rule. I’m dead, dead dead!”

She got up and stared walking again but It was now too dark to tell direction and she tripped over a tree root and fell into the undergrowth. She burst into tears, terrified suddenly, of every creak and shadow. She curled into a ball and hid her eyes in her grazed knees.

Suddenly, out of the shadows she heard rustling. “Who is it?” She cried out in a thin, high voice.

A furry mass descend on her, licking her face. _Kalbi_ "Oh thank God Kalbi!" She put her arms around him. Then the sound of human steps, heavy on the cracking twigs.

She looked up, there was a light. Mr Ross held a lantern. She looked up at him, blinking in the brightness. Trying to read his face. Which was, as usual, unreadable. He was frowning though, that wasn’t good.

My first day here and I’ve blown it!

She couldn’t speak as she rose to her feet and brushed herself off. She felt numb all over with fear.

"Are you hurt?" He asked. She shook her head. She was grazed but otherwise fine... For now.

She must have wondered far from her track because by the time they got back to the cottage the moon was high and, ironically, lighting their way. Not that she noticed, anxiety roiling inside her. Wondering what punishment lay in store for her.

Once inside he took off his boots and hung up the lantern. Then he turned to her and looked her up and down. Taking in her grazed knees and torn dress, she didn't know it but her eyes were red and swollen.

"When you didn't get home I thought maybe you'd met the children from the farm." He said, without affect. "But even a clear path in the woods can get treacherous at night so I thought I'd better fetch you. Good thing too by the looks of you."

He reached out his hand and retrieved a twig from her hair.

He didn't know that for the last few minutes she'd been frozen in terror, waiting for a blow. When his hand touched her head she fainted.


	3. An Understanding

_The village lay stilly under its slow wreaths of white smoke, as we rode near, on our guard. Some grey heaps seemed to hide in the long grass, embracing the ground in the close way of corpses. We looked away from these, knowing they were dead; but from one a little figure tottered off, as if to escape us. It was a child, three or four years old…The child ran a few steps, then stood and cried to us in a tone of astonishing strength (all else being very silent), 'Don't hit me, Baba.'_

_T.E. Lawrence, Recounting the aftermath of the 1918 Massacre at Tafas._

She didn’t feel like she’d been unconscious. She felt the same way that she always felt after being frozen. _Blank. Still. Nothing._ Her senses began to return to her, she smelled the kerosine lamp and heard the panting of the dog, felt his weight on her legs. There was warmth in the room, a crackling fire in the range. It was _warm._

She frowned, shook her head, opened her eyes. She was lying on the sofa, covered in a knitted blanket. Kalbi was lying across her legs, he wagged his tail when she looked at him. It was dark, the dim light of the lamp shone from the kitchen and cast shadows over the figure of Mr. Ross where he sat in the armchair. He was reading a book, he wore glasses that she hadn’t seen him wear before. His long face looked like it was carved out of stone in the strange light. He looked up at her, then back to the book. 

“ _There_ you are.” He said, quietly. “Back in the land of the living. ” 

When she didn’t reply he asked her:  “Do you know what happened?”

She shook her head, wondering what exactly he meant. 

“Tell me if I get this right…” He said, his voice was soft and not remotely angry, but she knew that tone could be deceptive when it came to adults.

“You went for a walk, as I had told you to do. You met the children next door and lost track of the time, then you got lost…Then I found you…Then we came back here…”

_Yes… Thats exactly what happened._ She had to admit to herself.

“ Then…You thought I was going to do something to you… To punish you…”

She nodded, still fearful.

“You were so afraid of me that you fainted.” 

She blinked back tears. Unsure of why.

“Look at me” He said. She did, His eyes were sincere, and sad. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He said, plainly. “Why did you think I was going to hurt you?”

She cleared her throat, her voice cracked as she spoke. “I was la…Late.” She hated her stammer. That vocal tick that betrayed her terror. “You said to be b…back by s…sunset.”

“Did I stipulate that if you weren’t back by sunset I’d punish you?”

She shook her head, tears running down her temples. “I assumed.” She whispered. 

“I see…” He sighed then, deeply, he looked tired in that moment, more tired than anyone she’d ever seen. "You're a clever little girl...You've learned from experience."

He paused for a moment, removing his glasses.  “Let me tell you a story…” He said. 

He reached over, slowly, and rubbed Kalbi’s ears. “This dog has taught me a lot in the short time I’ve had him… He’s taught me how to play, and how to laugh, He’s taught me patience… One day he’ll teach me to grieve…But most importantly… He taught me to touch… For years… For most of my life in fact, I couldn’t pat a dog, or shake a hand, or embrace a friend… Even before The Great War… When I joined up, the other recruits used to joke that I had shell shock without ever seeing a battle… Because if anyone tapped my shoulder I would flinch, and shake, and disappear… I would go away, out of my own body… Do you understand? I would look at myself from outside myself."

She nodded.

“You do don’t you? I’ve seen you do it too… It’s something I’ve only learned about quite recently. I started reading about psychology, studying the human mind, how people think and develop, how we come to be who we are…”

He looked at the dog fondly. “I learned that fear is just the body protecting itself… The body learns, over time, to react in certain ways over which the mind has no control... I learned a lot of new things and I had to change a lot of old opinions. "

He seemed to drift off into thought for a few seconds, then shook himself slightly and started talking again.

“When I was a boy…” He said, a slightly tense, choked tone entering his voice. “I was an unruly child, as children often are by nature. My parents were… Well, they were good, God fearing people, I suppose… They were strict, but normal. It was quite normal in those days to beat children… I suppose not much has changed in that regard…” He said with obvious bitterness. “I was often late… often dirty, or loud or disobedient. And when that happened, which was every day, without fail, my Mother would beat me… Until she saw blood.”

Lila, sat up, and put her arms around Kalbi. Staring at Mr. Ross in horror. She had never known a Mother… But had always _imagined_ a _Mother_ … A gentle, strong, comforting force in the world that would protect children from harm. 

He swallowed thickly, looking pale and sick. “I don’t believe she thought she was doing anything wrong… In fact I think she thought she was doing exactly the right thing, and not many people would have disagreed with her at the time…Including my Father. Including _me, i_ n fact. I thought it was just a part of life.”Lila was alarmed to see tears in his eyes. “…I think she didn’t realise what it would do to me… That it would make me afraid for the rest of my life… I suppose it was how she was treated too… When she was young. Maybe it damaged her in other ways.” 

He looked at her. “To be honest with you I have no idea what I’m doing right now, I’m used to leading soldiers, keeping them safe, keeping them alive… But I have little experience with children… And I was not expecting to have to care for one… I'm sure I will make many mistakes... But I see that my first was not explaining to you when you arrived… That I don’t hit children. I don’t want to and I couldn’t _if_ I wanted to… If I tried to hit you my arm would rebel and not allow it… My body would remember.” 

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Not in the least.” He said, smiling sadly at her. “All you did wrong was lose your way in the dark. That is a human failing I would say, not a moral one.” He rose from his seat and went to the stove. “Now I think we should eat something and you should get ready for bed don’t you think?”

She sighed in relief. Gratefully taking a cup of soup and piece of bread from him, and they ate in silence together. 

“May I go and wash?” She asked.

“You don’t have to ask.” He replied. There’s a candle in the boot room, and a tub of water, and a bottle of iodine. You need to put some in the bath for your back.”

“It feels better today.” She said.

“Still… Better to be safe.” 

"Yes SIr."

He drew a sharp breath. She paused in the doorway. " Thats another thing...I'm not in the army anymore. I suppose...I suppose you should call me Ned."

_ I thought your name was John? S _ he thought. 

"Yes Si...Ned." She replied and closed the door.

…………………………………………………

Later, when she had bathed and lay in her nightclothes under layers of blankets. He sat with her, reading his book, occasionally taking a pencil and making notes in the margins. 

She wasn't tired, but she could have slept. She felt safe, safe enough to interrupt his reading. She looked into the dim light, watches shadows dance on the ceiling. A vague nagging question made its way to her lips.

"Sir...I mean... Ned?"

"Yes?" He didn't look up from his book

"When you said... Yesterday... That I had... Eastern Ancestry...Um.." She trailed off. Not sure what exactly she wanted to ask.

"Yes?" He looked up.

"What did that mean?"

He closed the book. Tapping his pencil on the cover. "Well... The shape of your face, the texture of your hair... Tell me that your bloodline probably goes to North Africa... Maybe Abyssinia or Egypt. Maybe even over the Arabian Sea to the Middle East or Mesopotamia... Do you know anything about your parentage?"

She blinked. Realising that no one had ever asked her that question before. But he seemed genuinely interested. 

"What's your surname?"

"Jenkins. But I think the Sisters gave it to me."

"Pity...Your name... Lila could have an Arabic, Persian or Hebrew origin... From _Laylah_ It means 'Night'... Didn't your parents tell the orphanage anything?" 

"No..." She said quietly. "I was found in a church..."

"No Letter or anything?"

"No. No clues... Um... At least nothing the Sisters told me about."

It could have been a brief glimpse of anger she saw on his face at the mention of the Nuns. 

"Well the church is a clue..." He said thoughtfully. A Muslim wouldn't have left you there... Nor a Jew. So maybe Abyssinia... Ethiopia" He corrected himself "Thats the Archeologist in me I suppose... Christianity in Ethiopia dates to the ancient Kingdom of Aksum."

His eyes had lit up. This was clearly something he enjoyed thinking about. She caught a glimpse again, of a kind of joy in his face which changed his whole appearance. 

"Askum?" She liked the sound of the word. 

"Aksum was the name of a kingdom in North West Africa that was hugely powerful and influential in antiquity... It was a great Empire... Some say that the Aksumites taught the Aincient Egyptians how to build the Pyramids."

Her eyes were wide. "There were kings in Africa?"

He chuckled "Of course! And Queens... Aksum was ruled by the Queen of Sheba... Have you ever heard of her?"

She had, but only in the context of Sister Catherine boxing her ears and asking her _"who she thought she was? The Queen of Sheba?"_

"No Never."

"She ruled during the Golden Age.... She may have ruled over Egypt also... was said to be a great ally of King Soloman of Israel... In any event... She converted to Judaism... Some scholars believe that she was given stewardship of the Arc Of the Covenant by him before he died. That she bought it home with her and that it still lies hidden somewhere in North Africa..." 

Now he was in his element, she'd never seen him so animated. He was smiling and gesturing with his hands. Almost as enthralled with the story as she was... Almost like a child 

She was transported, into a an aincient world where African Queens debated with Biblical Kings, learned the secrets of creation and led armies into battle...

"Who knows Lila..." He winked at her. "You might be her great great great great great great granddaughter." 

After she'd dropped off she would have seen him take down the lamp and close the shutters. Before retiring himself he looked at her for a long moment. Pain in his eyes. 

Kalbi got down from the sofa to follow him and he shook his head, pointing to the sleeping girl. "Stay... Watch her for me..."

The dog curled beside the sofa, tail wagging. 

"Good Boy."

xxxxxxxxxxxx 

That night was the first nightmare. She had fallen asleep happy… But, maybe because she finally felt safe, her mind began to offload the baggage it was carrying.The nightmare always started the same way:

_Standing in the big, open corridor in Mercy House. Leading to the Baby Ward. Where the youngest prisoners were held. She couldn’t remember much about it. Children were moved out at the age of 3 into the ‘big girls’ or ‘big boys’ dormitories. However she knew she hadn’t liked it there. She was very afraid of that corridor and the ward. Which no children were allowed into, unless they were infants. She had a memory of a cold, sterile room with rows of cots with metal bars, and the white, hooded spectral figures of Sisters that sometimes walked in and out, silently._

_The Baby Ward._

_In her dream, she stood in the hall with her feet half an inch above the cold marble floor… There was a sudden, pitiful sound of a baby crying… The crying became louder and more insistent… And more distressed… She began to be pulled by an unseen force toward the big doorway of the Baby Ward…. The crying was now so loud it was shaking the walls and thundered through the building…Filled with terror, she tried to scream… No sound came out of her mouth. She put to her arms to try and grip the doorframe as she was pulled inside…_

She woke suddenly and on a silent scream, staring into the night, shaking with terror. She felt the weight of the dog on her lap and his tongue on her hand. She clutched the animal for dear life, unable to stop shaking.

She didn’t fall asleep again until the first rays of light began to creep in through the window.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning it rained and she spent the morning, in a somewhat exhausted state, helping Mr.Ross… Ned… Tidy the attic space which was to be her bedroom.It was her job to dust the place with a damp cloth and remove cobwebs.The space itself was full of trunks and boxes which he’d moved to one corner at the far end.

There was a small round window, like a porthole at the other end. He was under it, working with a saw and a number of drills and bolts, assembling old planks from the woodshed into a bed frame… They had no mattress but he was sure he could find one somewhere. Once the bed was completed, he opened one of the wooden trunks and emptied out the books inside. Piling them under and sheet on the floor at the far side of the room with the other storage.

“Here.” He said, placing the trunk at the end of the bed. “That’s My old Army foot locker. It’s yours now, you can keep things in it, or on it.”

She gaped at him. She ran her fingers over the dark, smooth, wood. “Th… Thank you sir!”

“Ned.” He corrected her. “ And you’re welcome…I’m going to try and find some sandpaper…Can’t have you getting splinters.” 

He Descended the ladder.She immediately crouched down to take a closer look at the Army Locker, grinning widely.A real Army Locker! It was like a treasure chest. Big, it came level to the end of the bed.It had a metal latch with no padlock and lots of room inside. She was delighted, she's never been given a present before. 

He returned with the valuable sandpaper, which was almost impossible to come by anymore, and taught her how to sand the wood, they sat in amicable silence and worked on smoothing the bad frame together. Creating a a lot of sawdust to sweep up later. The bed frame wasn’t anything special in design, just a rectangle of pine with thinner slats running across it, but she thought it looked beautiful.

A sound from downstairs interrupted their work. Someone was ringing the bell. Ned looked out of the window and went downstairs again. Hearing voices, and being too curious to stop herself, Lila went to the opening in the floor and eavesdropped. Did he have a _visitor?_

“Now I know they’re not much but… Seeing the state of that poor child’s clothes and ‘er skinny little arms and legs they’ll be better than nothing I hope.”

She recognised the voice, and popped her head through the hatch, seeing the downstairs room upside down. It was Peggy, Harris and Jack’s mum, from the farm... She had no baby with her today and was holding a pile of folded clothes.

“Thank you indeed Mr’s Browne… If you’re sure you can spare them. How can I compensate you?” Ned’s voice was a little different, tense, like he was trying to hide his accent a little.

“Pshhh! No compensation Mr Ross! “ She brushed him off. Then looking up, and seeing Lila’s head hanging upside down from the hole in the ceiling she jumped and clutched her chest with a laugh. “Goodness! hello Girl!”

“Hello Mrs Browne.” She said politely, since Ned wasn’t being familiar she thought she'd better not be either. “ How are the boys?” She asked.

“Well missy they’re all big and bold as ever. Doing their chores as I told ‘em I hope”

Lilamade her way down the ladder. She could practically sense Ned’s nervousness in the air.

“Lila. Mrs Browne had bought you some clothes. Isn’t that kind of her?” He said stiffly.

“Just some hand me downs of the boy’s, nothing special I’m afraid dear.”

Lila’s eyes widened at the neatly folded stack. First the locker, now this! She’d never seen so much generosity. “Thank you Mrs.” She whispered, suddenly shy.

“Would you like a cup of tea Mrs Browne?” He asked her. Clearly hoping she’d refuse.

“Well Mr Ross since you’re offering I did bring some scones.” She said, indicating a basket at her feet with a smile. Then she turned to Lila.

“Dear you wouldn’t go and check on Charlie would you, while Me and Mr Ross have a tea? He’s in his pram outside.” She said, handing her a scone, obviously trying to get rid of her.

“Yes Mrs.”

“You can call me Peggy you know. I’m not your teacher.” She smiled, softening her words.

Lila smiled back “Yes Peggy.” And went outside. Dying to know what Peggy wanted to say to Ned. Charlie was sleeping, his chubby little face perfectly peaceful. 

She knew she shouldn’t… But iflife in the orphanage had taught her anything, it was that to be forewarned was to be forearmed. She walked as quietly as she could, to the open window and stood against the wall beside it.

“I hope you don’t think me presumptuous Mr Ross… Its just that… When I heard she was living here I felt I had to…”

“Make sure I was a respectable citizen?”

“Well.. No Mr Ross… I know you’re a respectable citizen, of course, after what you did for them boys at Dunkirk… But… You being a man and all…

“I understand your concern entirely Mr’s Browne.” Ned replied calmly. “I would also have had concerns about a single man taking in a little girl… There are unscrupulous people in the world. Believe me I know… You understand It was the Vicar in Lymmington and his wife who asked? In these times we must all do our duty, even if its a little strange in execution sometimes… Her colour counted against her. She was either to go with me or back to London… To be bombed every night.”

“Oh people really are ridiculous!” She huffed.

“Glad you think so. Human life is worth more to me than anything local gossip might do.”

“Well… Yes of course… And she’s such a slip of a thing…So thin… I feel I have to offer any practical help or advice you might need. Not that I have much experience with girls mind…. But five children later, well you learn a few things.”

_Five children? Charlie, Jack, Harris and Barry… Who was the fifth?_

_“_ She is too thin.” He agreed. “Should I be feeding her more often? Or differently?”

“Milk.” She said firmly, “Every day, fresh, not the powdered ration stuff. Same goes for eggs of course but you have chickens so that not a problem… And meat.”

"I hadn’t thought of meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Well think of it now and update your ration book. She needs lt. Look at her, looks like she’s been starved.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He said darkly.

“Oh? Do you know where she came from before here?”

“Some God forsaken orphanage.” He seethed. “She hasn’t said it to me directly, but she has been ill treated… I can tell.”

“Poor mite.”

A long pause, then she spoke again.

“If this war continues beyond the summer… Well you’ll have to think of school… The boys go to the one in Shanklin, its closest.”

“I’m sorry to tell you Mr’s Browne, but in my opinion, this war will continue well beyond this _year.”_

There was another pause.

“ Where is your Husband stationed?”

“Greece, last I heard…”

"And your Son?"

"Burma."

He hissed through his teeth. 

"I pray every morning, noon and night.' she murmured. 

"Take it from a former soldier. Their COs are looking out for them in every way possible. We have amazing strategists and God on our side Mrs Browne."

Even Lila wasn't convinced. 

"I'm still so angry with John for enlisting. At his age... I think he just wanted to protect his boy. And now they're separated again, opposite sides of the world."

"I'm so sorry. "

"Nothing to be done but keep our chins up and keep going." She said. "Which reminds me, I'd better _get_ going...Thanks so much for the tea."

Lila slunk away from the wall and back to the pram _. So that's who the fifth child is! A son in the army!_ She wondered why the boys hadn't mentioned him. Maybe they missed him too much. 

As Peggy left, she gave Lila a sad smile Her eyes looked red, like she'd been crying. 

"Now you let me know if you need _anything_ , dear, sometimes it's just nice to talk to one of us girls isn't it?" 

"Yes Mrs Browne.... I mean Peggy. " She corrected. 

"Be good." She said as she trundled the pram down the coast road. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Up in the attic, some time later, as she tried on a pair of overalls and a knitted jumper. Lila wondered if they'd once belonged to that nameless son in Burma. 

She's never felt warmer or more comfortable and immediately decided that she preferred boys clothes to girls. Her knees were covered! She didn't have to keep pulling her skirt down! 

There were more bright jumpers, shirts, shorts, wool socks and a hat, and best of all a coat! She had never owned as much clothing in her life. 

She folded the rest of the clothes, and her old ones, and put them into the army locker. Smiling. 

Running her hand over the wood she noticed that under the latch it was inscribed with gold lettering “T.E.L.”No rank or name. That was odd but she was so happy that didn’t think on it much at the time. 

Later she would wonder how she missed it. 


	4. An Appointment

_“_ _I'm always a bit sorry for children. We've had a hell of a bad time: so will they, I suppose.”_

_T.E. Lawrence 1929_

She felt dizzy, as she had for several days. She hadn't been sleeping well, of course. And then there was the food.

The food was wonderful .

But as someone who was used to two small meals; porridge for breakfast and bread and butter for dinner most days, with stew or champ only on Sundays... She just wasn't used to it. Neither the richness nor the quantity.

He'd been making her eggs and bacon for breakfast with thick slices of toast. Hunks of bread and cheese for her to take with her outside when she went off with Kalbi to visit the Brownes or to explore the beach. And always something in the evening with a big glass of milk. He had told her firmly never to be hungry, to take food from the pantry whenever she wanted.

This had resulted in her getting sick in the morning these last few days. Secretly, in the bushes behind the house. She'd usually be ravenous later and eat the lunch and throw that up too. Leaving her terrified at the waste of good food.

Despite that, she was happy. Happier than she could remember. The two younger Browne boys were becoming friends. They had walked up the hill together into feed the calves several times which she loved. Although she found it hard to keep up with them. 

She liked listening to their banter. She learned all about their brother Teddy, who was 21 and fighting in Burma. They waited every day for a letter from him, and got quite serious when they spoke of him, though it was with evident worship.

Barry, the older one, she had only met once as he was avoiding his mother behind the house.

"Hi little girl." He said, not questioning her presence at the house. As though strange children wandered in and out all the time. He'd offered her a puff on a cigarette, which she had declined.

"You won't mention me to mum will you?" He said with a wink. "Only I have to run and meet someone and if she sees me she'll only give me chores!"

She made the "zipping up my mouth" gesture and smiled.

Peggy allowed children to walk in and out of her house like they lived there. She still always knocked.

When not at the farm or in the garden, she spend her days combing the beach for interesting shells or pieces of smooth glass. She loved the feel of sand between her toes a salt spray on the air. 

They spent most of their daytimes apart, but in the evenings she and Ned would sit by the fire and he'd tell her stories of the Orient. Or sometimes read to her from a large book of tales from the East or one of his many history books. She didn’t understand most of it but she always fell asleep easily enough to the cadence of his voice. 

The nightmares woke her with clockwork regularity. Last night she had woken with a scream and woken Ned. Who had looked around the door bleary eyed. 

"Nightmare?" 

She'd nodded. Wrapping her arms around her knees. 

"Kalbi Up!" He'd said, gesturing for the dog to jump up beside her. Kalbi settled at her feet, tail wagging. 

He'd lit a candle and put it on the kitchen table. She watched the shadows lick the ceiling. He left the bedroom door open. 

She was noticing a different side of him, a playful, almost childish side. She’d catch him sometimes singing to himself while outside working in the garden. He’d wink at her and sing louder. Or the occasional joke or laugh she wasn’t expecting. And he _loved_ stories. When he was telling her about crusader kings and Djinn princesses his eyes lit up like a little boy's and his voice and face became animated, joyful and alive. So different to the blank affect he had most of the time.

One day they were weeding the carrot bed together. She hadn’t realised he’d been staring at her until she looked up to see him regarding her almost curiously. 

“It’s much different from having boys around I expect.” He said, almost to himself. 

She looked up at him questioningly. “Pardon sir?”

“Are all girls as quiet as you? When I was your age I was always making noise, racing around everywhere, breaking things.”

She thought for a moment. “I’m quiet.” She said. “Quieter then other girls.” She knew it was true. “I’m tired all the time.”

He nodded to himself, as though something had been confirmed. 

As her happiness in the daytime grew her night terror became worse. And a growing anxiety that The War would end soon… And she would be sent back… _She would rather jump in the ocean and drown. She couldn’t go back to that place._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten days after her day of arrival they went to town. Ned explained that, while occasional visits to the mainland were  necessary for essentials, generally he preferred not to leave the island. “Luckily” He told her, seriously, as they walked outside “Shanklin has a decent enough doctor…I want to get you checked over.” He spoke about her as though she were a motor cycle going for a tune up. She felt cold dread in her stomach.

“But I..I… I’m not sick!” She protested. “I feel fine!”

“You’re losing weight...Which you can ill afford to lose." He explained. “And you’ll need your teeth looked at and probably many more childhood things I have no idea about.” His tone brooked no argument and she brooded all the way in, hunkered down in the sidecar.

Lila hadn’t been into town before. In London they weren’t allowed out of the gate, so she’d watch the city from an upstairs window. The idea of walking around among the people endlessly fascinating. The people below looked cowed and frightened.

Tiny Shanklin Town was busy. People milled around happily. They were far from the War, it seemed, and despite the look of vague anxiety on the faces of many, the majority seemed relaxed as they went about their business.

Ned was at the post office getting her a ration book. Lila stood outside, across the road, watching the parade of people.

She had slept poorly again, only a couple of hours, and everything around her felt slow and weighted by her own tiredness. 

Having overheard the conversation at the window the other day she’d become conscious of her “skinny arms and legs.” And watched other girls, wondering how she compared to them.

It being July, there were many children about. Groups of boys and girls played in the street or walked arm in arm. Some of them stopped to stare at her and whisper to one another. She was wearing overalls, but she knew that wasn’t why. Lots of girls wore overalls… Didn’t they? She’d thought of wearing a frock but her grey uniform ones, she was informed by Peggy Browne, were so short as to be “indecent.” Peggy had confiscated them to take the hems down. 

She knew why they stared, and ignored it, as usual. _I don’t care._

“Hello.”

A little girl of 5 or 6 in a pink dress stood in front of her. Chewing her pigtail, and smiling shyly. In one hand she held a skipping rope.

“Hello. Whats your name?” Asked Lila, smiling back.

“Jessy….”

“I’m Lila.”

“Do you want to play?”

Lila was about to reply, when a woman, presumably the little girl’s mother rushedover and glared at Lila. “Jess you get back here! Don’t talk to strangers!” She berated as she pulled the child away with her, down the pavement. Throwing dirty look over her shoulder.

_So much for that._

She looked up to see Ned, standing by the door of the grocery shop, observing her. When she looked up and waved he walked over. Handing her the ration book and hefting a small sack of groceries over his shoulder.

“Take care of that.” He said. Trusting her to do so. Do you want come into the supplies with me?”

She nodded walking beside him quietly. He emanated nerves when out in public but also, strangely, an aura of safety. It seems to her that no matter what happened he’d be ready for anything.

After that they went into a shop called _O’Sullivans Supplies,_ which seems to be not only a greengrocers, haberdashers and drapers, but also a farm suppliers. Every square inch was full of everything. She wondered at the sweet smell of grain by the sackful and the bright bolts of fabric while Ned spoke to a very old man who sat behind the counter beside a large weighing scale. 

“Thank you Mr. O’Sullivan.” Said Ned stiffly. “Can I rely on a delivery sometime this week?”

“Yes indeed Sir, ye can.” Said the man.

“I’ll go and see what you have if you don’t mind?” 

“Go ahead! Go hunting in the back there!” The old man said, as Ned went to the back of the room to look for something. He called Lila over to the counter. Looking her up and down shrewdly…When he spoke it was in a soft, quavering tone.“Hello Pet.” He said in what she recognised as an Irish accent, same as some of the Sisters. He put on a pair of very thick glasses and stared at her for a moment. “Ye’ll be down from London?” He asked. Knowing right away that she was an evacuee.

“Yes sir.”

“From a Mother and Baby Home by the look of ye?” He said, with genuine curiosity rather than accusation.

“Y…Yes.” She whispered, knowing that was what some people called an Orphanage.

_“Nuns_ was it?” The old man said, spitting the word like it was poisonous.

She nodded, looking up at him warily through her curls. “Sisters of Mercy.”

“Ah!” He said, shuddering “The little half castes often ended up there… God help them!Good thing for you the war came.” He muttered. “I knew a few who weren’t so lucky… I survived the Jesuits myself… I’ll give you some advice for free Pet…” He leaned towards her and whispered. “No matter how bad things get from now on… You stay away from those Jesuits!” He said, his eyes wide and his hands shaking with emotion.

She nodded hurriedly. “Y…Yes sir!”

“Everything all right?” Said Ned, from behind her, making her jump. The old Man looked up at him and reached out a shaking hand towards Ned. Who stepped backward like he was about to be touched with red hot poker.

“Whats wrong Mr O’Sullivan?”

“God bless you Mr Ross… Ye take care of the little girl.”

Lila wanted to burst into tears at the sight of the old man so shaken… Because he _knew… He knew!_ She swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Go with God Pet.” He said. 

“Come along Lila. We have to see the Doctor, remember?” Said Ned quietly, opening the door. She turned as they left and saw the old man wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Doctor’s surgery was small and quiet. There was no one else in the waiting room. Lila felt sick with nerves. And it must have showed.

“Don’t be nervous Lila” Ned told her. “I’m not fond of Doctors either but I’ve been seeing Doctor Alterman for years… You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

The secretary put her head through the door with a smile. “Who’s next?”

Ned rose with a polite smile and lifted his hand in a salute. Lila noticed that he didn’t shake hands with people. Instead opting for that strange half wave. Come to think of it, he made sure that never touched anyone in any way, not even when crowding on the street.

“Doctor Alterman.” He greeted her with a smile. Lila did a 180 degree turn in surprise. She wasn’t the secretary! _She_ was a _Doctor! A Lady doctor!_

“It’s rude to stare Lila.” Ned reminded her quietly, with a smirk in his voice. She shut her gaping mouth immediately and they followed the Doctor inside.

She sat and stared at a chart on the wall of every bone in the human body while Ned and the Doctor discussed her in hushed tones. She was so nervous she barely cared that they were discussing her as though she wasn’t in the room.

“Orphanage…Eating… But not gaining weight… Weak… Nerves… Quiet… Tired…” He said something she didn’t understand about “lacerations” and “cruelty”. 

The doctor turned to her, she had shiny straight dark hair worn up, big brown eyes, and red lipstick. She spoke with a soft accent of some kind. Lila thought she was beautiful.

“Now my dear, let’s ask Mr Ross to step outside for a moment and take a look at you hmm?”

Lila wasn’t nervous with her like she had expected. Doctor Alterman seemed gentle and patient. After Ned left, Lila undressed and let her look at her back, take her tempertaure,move her limbs around, look in her throat, ears and eyes, and listen to her chest with a cold stethoscope. After she was done she sighed and told Lila to get dressed before calling Ned back in.

“Malnutrition.” She said to him. “Quite severe.”

He looked alarmed. “I thought I was feeding her enough… I should have…” He began to reproach himself. 

She interrupted. “No... I’m sure you’re feeding her just fine… But sometimes that’s the problem in these cases.”

“What do you mean?” He asked her.

“ Lila?” Asked the Doctor. “What did you usually eat at the orphanage most days?”

“Porridge Miss.” She whispered.

“Just porridge?”

“And Bread… In the evening.”

“Anything with the bread?”

“Milk… Sometimes.”

The Doctor nodded. “And what have you eaten after coming here?”

“Um… Bacon and eggs Miss… and bread and cheese… and soupand stew and…”

“I see.” She said, looking meaningfully at Ned. “Tell me Lila have you ever felt sick after eating?”

Lila’s heart hammered in her chest. The jig was up. She was caught and could lie now.

“Yes…” She looked at her feet, shame heating her face.

“And do you ever vomit?”

She felt a hot tear roll down her face, she nodded. The Doctor put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her and she jerked violently. like she’d had an electric shock.

“How often Lila?”

“Every day.” She whimpered. Looking up at Ned she said “Sorry!” and burst into tears. “I didn’t mean too!”

He crouched down slightly in front of her. “Look at me.” He said. “Lila! Look at me.”

She raised her eyes.

“I’m not angry… You aren’t in any trouble… You got sick… That wasn’t your fault… It was _mine._ ” he looked up at the Doctor then. “I should have realised.” He said bitterly. “ I saw enough of it during the war… I thought, for some reason, that it couldn’t be this severe.” He bit his lip.

“Indeed.” Said Doctor Alterman with a hint of anger in her voice. “One wouldn’t expect to find this outside of a slum… Even during wartime. But now that you know what you’re dealing with you need to keep the food simple and minimal for a while and _slowly_ introduce new things.”

He nodded. Clearly taking mental notes.

“You need to treat her like you’d treat a rescued POW in a field hospital. Rest, quiet, bone broth, bread and milk if she can tolerate it…Keep her warm, her body temperature is a little low.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Her injuries?” He murmured.

“Extensive… Long term…Healing, but, perhaps more slowly than they should due to the lack of nutrition.”

“Can you make a record of it?” He asked. “Something official?

“Of course.“ She nodded, I've catalogued everything should there be a need for it... But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it… Right now you have a very sick little girl to take care of… I’ll get the chemist to make up a tonic for her also.”

When Lila looked up she saw that he had the saddest look in his eyes. She felt guilty that she’d put it there.

“Thank you Doctor.” He sighed. 

“If you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She said. 

Before she got in the sidecar to ride home, he removed his Jacket and put it over her shoulders. “You stay warm now Habibi.”He said. She wondered what that meant. Watching him while he drove , she caught a glimpse once again, of that barely concealedexcitement and joy.

Back at the house they found Harris Browne sitting on the doorstep. He jumped up with a shy smile when the motorcycle pulled in. Approaching as Ned killed the engine. 

“Hello Sir! Good Afternoon! Hello Lila!” He said.

“Hi Harris.” She said sleepily as she disembarked. Ned waved at the boy dismissively and went inside with the shopping basket, Kalbi bouncing along beside him. Leaving them on the doorstep.

“You won’t believe this!” He said with obvious excitement. “We got a letter from Dad! He’s coming home!”

“Oh!” She grinned and gave him a hug. “ I’m so happy for you!”

“He was injured in action, he says, but he’s mending in hospital. He should be home in a couple of weeks!” The boy was practically skipping with joy. 

“I can’t wait to meet him!” She said. 

“Do you want to go and visit the new lambs with me?” He asked. 

“Not today lad.” Ned’s voice echoed from inside. “She’s not well today.” 

“Oh!” Harris’s eyes widened in alarm “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were ill.” 

She shrugged. “I feel no different than I usually do really. But the Doctor had said it was Mal… Mal- something-or-other… Anyway It means I need to rest inside and eat soup.” She gasped suddenly. “Oh! I hope I didn’t give it to you!”

“Its not catching.” Came Ned’s voice from inside again.

“Oh… Well…Good.” Said Harris. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Come inside Lila” Ned appeared in the doorway. “Give your Mother my congratulations of your Father’s discharge Lad.” He said to Harris. Politely dismissing him. 

“Yes Sir!” Harris said saluting him and running off happily.

She walked into the cottage and stood in front of him. Suddenly serious she asked. “Am I going to die?” 

His eyebrows rose to his hairline and he laughed in surprise. “Of course not! Why on _Earth_ would you think that?”

“You and the Doctor… You both seemed… Worried.”

He sighed, sitting down on the sofa. He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here, let me talk to you.”

She sat beside him. He looked down at her with a mix of amusement and sorrow which she couldn’t understand. 

“Malnutrition simply means that you aren’t getting enough to eat. Your stomach isn’t used to lots of food, thats why you were getting sick see? So we need to start small, and get you eating a little more each day… Malnutrition can become starvation and then it’s very dangerous. But you’re not there yet. Don’t worry, the human body is an extraordinary machine. It takes more than this to kill it…" 

He spoke seriously, she could tell he wasn't lying or trying to make her feel better. "I’m not saying it isn’t serious Lila. It may have stunted your growth, that means you will probably always be a little small for your age, which isn’t a terrible thing for a girl I suppose… We need to make sure of now, is that your bones, and teeth, and organs are strong and growing properly… That we can do.”

She pondered this for a moment. then said “I shouldn’t have kept it secret…”

“The vomiting? Well… The damage started long before that…But no, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be afraid to tell me that kind of thing.”

“Back at…” She caught herself, Looking away, wishing she hadn’t said anything. 

“Back at..? Go on… Tell me.” He said gently. 

“If we didn’t eat everything on our plates… Well…We weren’t allowed to leave anything.” She began in a shameful whisper, her heart speeding up at the memory of the cold stone walls and cold hearts in that place. “On Sundays sometimes they’d give us Champ… Champ is potato and mutton… But mostly just mutton fat really… And… Its hard to eat sometimes… But the Sisters said it’s a sin to waste food…Um…: She blinked tears away at the memory…If someone got sick at dinner… They’d m…Make them eat it.” She finished, staring resolutely out the window so she didn’t have to see the look of disgust on his face. 

“Make them...?” It took him a moment to understand what she was saying “…Oh _God!_ ” 

“Do you believe me?” She breathed, terrified of the answer. 

“Of course I believe you… I saw what they did to your back… Why wouldn’t I believe any other cruelty of them?”

“They’re of God. They’re married to Jesus.” She said. 

He gave a sharp mirthless laugh. “ But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” He said, anger writ on his face. “Jesus didn’t like people who hurt children.”

She thought about that for a while. Ned put blanket over her knees, stoked up the fire and began unpacking the shopping. He had a bag of bones from the butcher which went into a pot with water and salt on the stovetop. Then heated some milk in a saucepan and bought it to her in a mug. 

“Drink that slowly.” He told her. “I’m going to wash up.” He departed for the back room with tub of water. Leaving her with her thoughts. 

_If the Sisters weren’t doing what Jesus wanted them to do … What did that mean for Good and Evil? Everything they taught us… Could it all be wrong?_ She felt confused and insecure in one way but in another much lighter and cleaner. Because… If The old man at the shop was right… And Ned was right… Then… _Then maybe they’re the bad ones… Maybe all my hatred of them doesn’t mean I’m bound for Hell…_

She dared to think it. Knowing pride was a Sin… But now wondering if _Sin_ had any meaning coming out of their mouths… Could it be? _Maybe I’m not such a bad child after all?_

_xxxxxxxxxxx_

The next few days she rested on the sofa, reading a big leather bound book of mythology, He gave her broth and bread twice a day and every now and then would feel her forehead gingerly, like he was touching a wild animal. He’d always ask her first “Is this all right?” Then, if he wasn’t satisfied with her body heat he’d add more wood to the stove. She had never experienced anything like it. The concept of being asked before someone touched her body, in any context, was unknown to her. 

He was strict, and clear in his instruction always, and she wanted to obey him, but not out of fear. 

On the third day she sat outside on a kitchen chair, wrapped in blankets, while she watched Ned chop wood, the axe splitting the logs perfectly and sending splinters flying. He insisted she say put and not try to help him, frowning and clucking his tongue severely when she got up to retrieve one. A big green Bedford Van arrived in the drive. It contained chickenwire, sandbags, corrugated tin and bricks, which the delivery boy helped unload. Once they were done the redhead, freckled boy scratched his head and looked at the pile.

“Sir… Not to be forward but… Thing is I have a Mum and sister to look after…And, the Home Guard are saying it not necessary outside of cities? But here I see you ordering all this stuff and… Well your reputation after Dunkirk sir… You obviously know what you’re doing.”

Ned looked out at the pile, rubbing his neck. “Well… Think on this…Whats your name?”

“Jerry Sir.”

“Jerry… This island has been a tactical base since Henry the Eighth built Sandown Castle to protect it against the French in 1545. The Castle is no longer there but the Island is still desirable to the Germans from a military perspective. Think how close we are to France and the Chanel Islands… Both occupied. Theres no reason they _wouldn’t_ bomb us, if you think about it."

Jerry’s eyes had widened and he was white as a sheet. Ned seemed to realise the impact of his words….”Don’t fret Lad. Nothing to worry about in the immediate . I’ll tell you what, you can help me build this one if you like and I’ll help you build yours. How does that sound?” 

“Why yes please sir! That sounds splendid!” The boy seemed relived. “Oh!” He slapped his head. “ I almost forgot!” He went back to the van and retrieved a single mattress. “This is for you I believe Missy.” He said, winking at Lila. “ _And…_ ” He went back again. “A gift for you from Mr O’Sullivan… Needs a bit of work but…Should be no trouble for you Mr Ross!” 

To Lila’s astonishment he wheeled out a small black bicycle. It was old and a little rusty but… A _Bicycle!_ She could hardly breathe.

“Well Lila?” Asked Ned “What do you say?” 

“Is… Is it for _me?_ ” She whispered. 

“Thats what I said” Said Jerry, smiling at her. “Seems My Grandfather took a shine to you Missy.” 

“Oh!” She couldn’t speak, she put her hands over her mouth. Her eyes filling with tears.

“You can tell your Grandfather ‘Thank you very much’.” Ned said to him, grinning. “As you can see she’s speechless… That will be something we can work on fixing together hmm?” He said to her.

Jerry promised to take their thanks back to Mr O’Sullivan and arranged a time to come and help Ned build the air raid shelter or “Anderson” as they called it. Lila remembered walking single file with all the other children to the underground to sleep overnight while the air raid sirens screamed bloody murder. She prayed silently that the bombers didn’t come to the Island. 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

That night she slept in a real bed. The most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in. The mattress was springy and soft and there were smooth cotton sheets and a warm quilt on top. The moon shone through the little round window, Lila read by the light of a glass candle lantern on the army locker at the end of the bed. She heard Ned climbing the ladder and put down “Tales of the Greek Heroes” and got under the covers. 

He was carrying Kalbi in his arms. He put the little dog down, who immediately ran to her, whimpering and wagging happily. 

“I thought you could use some company.” Ned said softly, walking to the far side of the room and getting a worn looking blanket from one of the boxes. He put it beside her bed on the floor and Kalbi lay on it. He then pulled an old chair over to her bed and sat down. 

“Thank you Mr…” She caught herself, still not quite used to the informality “ Thank you Ned.” 

“How do you like the Greeks?” He asked her, indicating the book. 

“I like them…” She said…” My favourite story is Echo and Narcissus and I like Artemis best of the Gods.”

“Oh really? The Huntress!” He said quirking his lip “and what about her do you like?”

She thought for a moment, frowning. “All the goddesses… Most of them, they rely on the other Gods and Goddesses, they fight with them and they have wars and stuff… She’s just… Strong... on her own and she likes to be with alone with the animals.”

“A fine characterisation!” He said with a grin. “I’ve always admired her too. The virgin huntress, friend and sister, never wife or mother.”

“I’m feeling better today.” She told him “Stronger, like Artemis.”

“Glad to hear that.” He said. “It can only get better from here.”

“Ned?” she said, biting her lip. 

“Yes?”

“I have nightmares.”

“I know.”

Without really knowing why, she voiced the fear that shed been carrying for days.

“I don’t want to go back… To the Sisters… When this is over.” 

“Oh Lila.” He said gently. “Is that what your nightmares are about?” 

“I think so.” She whispered.

“You feel unsafe I suppose… Well… Understand this… I have led thousands of men… Defeated armies… Ridden over the most dangerous of deserts… I have fought and killed, and almost died many times… I have knocked moving trains off their tracks… I have starved and suffered and survived things most people can’t imagine… The last thing I’m afraid of are a gang of _Nuns_. I don’t care if they ride down from heaven like valkyries with the power of the Holy See behind them. They are _no_ match for me! Do you understand? You are _never_ going back to that place.”

His icy blue eyes were hard and certain. He clutched his knee with white knuckles. 

She didn’t understand some of his words, but his intent was crystal clear. She nodded to herself. He believed what he was saying and, in that moment, so did she… Relaxed at last, she lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. 

“Goodnight Ned.” She said sleepily. 

After a moment she heard him say “Goodnight Habibi.” As he descending the ladder. 


	5. Return

_“If you wear Arab things, wear the best … Dress like a Sherif, if they agree to it."_

_— T.E. Lawrence_

She had the thought one morning as she woke.

_I never…_

She woke, as she always did, to a cold sweat, she reached down to touch Kalbi, where he lay beside her.

Before, she’d always slept with her hands folded outside the blanket on her chest. The Sisters always said that sleeping with hands beneath the sheet was ‘dirty’ she had no idea why.

She was warm, the heat from last nights fire rose to the top of the house and heated the attic all night. That was the first thing that let her know she wasn’t Still at Mercy House. The lack of rows of beds and softly breathing children were another clue. Instead of the clang of a bell making her jump out of bed and hurriedly pull her clothes on, she lay there, relaxed. Watching the light of the rising sun though the window illuminate the little room, the comforting boxes stacked in the corner, the trunk at her feet.

She closed her eyes again and sank back into sleep. Peaceful this time. She woke hours later to a scraping sound. She stood the bed on tiptoes and looked out at the garden.

Ned was digging a trench beside the vegetable garden. He had already completed three others to make a large rectangle of dug out earth. The start of their bomb shelter. She wasn’t allowed to help yet. He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to rest as much as possible. But she had started to feel restless of late, and longed to run around or throw something heavy.

She put on some warm clothes and a big wooly jumper that hung off her small frame and went downstairs to wash her hands and face. Kalbi had learned to climb up and down the ladder and followed her happily. He immediately ran outside to join his master.

The thought _I never…._ occurred to her again as she looked at the saucepan hanging neatly on the wall. Normally she would have been eager to make them both porridge or eggs for breakfast. But she had been told by Ned not to. ‘Don’t you dare” he’d said, “no chores until you’re stronger.”

She didn’t see how it made any difference, she’d had tons of chores at Mercy House and she’d been weaker than she was now. She frowned in determination and pushed her chair over to the counter and reached for the pot. Then pushed the chair to the water butt to fill it. As she tried to lift it to the stovetop it was taken out of her hands from behind.

“Ah! Now what did I tell you? No heavy lifting little one.” Said his calm voice. She didn’t flinch when he surprised her anymore.

“ But I want to help!” She whined “I’m strong enough!”

“The doctor was very clear Lila.” He said, putting the water on the stove. “No chores or physical labour of any kind. You’re improving but nowhere near strong enough yet. Right now your job is to rest and be at peace. Can you do that for me?”

She frowned. “I haven’t been sick in a week.” She said. “I’m sure I’m getting fatter too.”

He laughed, a strange high giggle that always surprised her. “All right! All right! You have me beaten. Get the eggs for breakfast, go on!”

She grinned and jumped up to get the basket. Delighted to have something to do.

“Put on your boots!” He called after her as she almost ran outside barefoot.

After breakfast she sat on the grass and watched Ned digging with Jerry, the delivery van driver. Who showed up a little later in the morning to help. Ned explained to him how deep to dig and why the curve of the corrugated tin would protect the interior from a shockwave should the house be hit. She shuddered.

She looked away to see a small figure standing at the far end of the cottage. It was Jack, the younger of the Browne boys. She waved at him but he wouldn’t come over to her. So she went to him. His eyes were red and it was obvious that he’d been crying.

“Jack? What happened? Is it your Brother? Your Father?” She asked, assuming the worst.

“Dad’s home.” He said hoarsely, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Just got home.” He avoided her eyes, shuffling his feet.

“Well… Thats wonderful! Isn’t it? Why are you crying?”

He began to sniff and blink his eyes. “He’s… Different… Everything’s ruined!” He wailed dramatically.

“Come on… I’ll walk you home.” She put an arm around his shoulders. Looking back she saw that Ned had stopped digging and was standing, leaning on his shovel, watching them.

“I’ll just take him home!” She called. Ned nodded at her. “C’mon Jack, let’s sort this out.” She said, rubbing the smaller boy’s arm.

As they walked through the woods shed tried to get Jack to tell her what was wrong. He shook his head. “He’ll hate me now, cause I ran out on him.” He muttered. “No one else ran out on him.”

When they arrived at the farm, Jack seemed unwilling to go into the house, following her reluctantly as she opened the back door and went into the kitchen. He lingered behind.

Then she understood.

Sitting at the table, holding little Charlie and surrounded by his family, who all looked quite devastated, was Mr Browne. Still in his uniform, he sat, not in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, but in a metal wheelchair. Both his legs were severed below the knee, the bandaged stumps poking out the ends of his cutoff army trousers…Swallowing her initial shock Lila remembered her manners. Trying not to stare at the gruesome sight she approached him.

“Hello Mr. Browne.” She put out a hand to shake.

“Oh!” He jumped slightly and looked up in surprise and handing Charlie over to Barry. “Whos this?”

“Thats our neighbour Lila.” Said Peggy, who sat opposite, stiffly, her face was pale as a ghost with high points of colour on her cheeks. She also looked like she’d been crying, her eyes shining.

He shook her outstretched hand. “Hello Chick.” He said. “You myst be Harris’s little sweetheart he told me about hmm?”

Barry laughed out loud. Harris, who was sitting beside his father, with a hand on his arm, as though he was afraid his Dad would dissapear again, groaned and put his face in his hands.

“Thats not what I told them Lila.”He murmured.

Somewhere in the midst of Barry’s teasing and Harris’s embarrassment Mr Browne looked up and saw Jack peeping out from behind the doorframe.

“There he is.” He said softly, Lila couldn’t remember seeing sadder eyes, except maybe in Mr Ross. “Theres my little boy.” He opened his arms and Jack ran into them, weeping. “There now. Daddy’s ‘ome.” He rocked his younger son back and forth in his arms. “Little worse for ware but ‘e won’t be leavin’ you again.”

Lila thought she’d better leave, she turned to sneak off as quietly as she could but Peggy stopped her. “SIT!” She shouted, pointing at the chair beside her. “You’ll eat lunch with us.” An invitation that Lila didn’t dare to refuse. There was a tense feeling, like Peggy wanted her to stay so that the family wouldn’t have to talk to one another. Peggy got up and busied herself around the kitchen as she usually did, fetching and carrying. Banging pots and pans. and generally acting like nothing had changed. But Lila could see how upset she was. She could tell that it had been a huge shock for all of them.

He hadn’t told them. She realised. _He came home without telling them about his legs._

As Peggy dished out soup and Barry cut bread, the conversation turned to Lila and Mr Ross. When Mr Browne (whose first name was Robert) heard where Lila was staying he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Well now! I never would’ve taken old Ross to be the type to take in a nipper… Never struck me as family man… Soldier like him.”

“Well you’d better believe it Bob.” Peggy said, relaxing a little. “He’s done right by this littleun… He asked me all sorts of questions about looking after kids… Theres a side to him no one sees I think.”

“Did anyone ever tell you about what he did at Dunkirk Chick?” Asked Bob, leaning forward in his chair conspiratorially, all the boys leaned in too, egar to hear the story.

“I remember that night like it was yesterday… I was going to be on one of the ferries when I saw Ross taking off in his motor boat alone, not big enough for more than two men but I thought he must’ve gone off his rocker and taken a notion to cross The Channel in it! So I called to him and got in…Well… We circled the Island and stopped at every cove and house looking for fishing vessels. For people who could captain them. Within a few hours he had a fleet together. Not just the men, he had girls volunteering to crew and as medics and nurses on the boats…”

“ There were women at Dunkirk?” Asked Lila, fascinated.

“Oh yes! Many brave women made dozens of trips across, they were running and crewing all the big white hospital ships you see, they had a red cross on them like a big target for the Luftwaffe too! Back here…All the local doctors, woman and kids and anyone else who had a mind to help, organised and getting halls and churches and houses turned to felid hospitals, ready to take in the wounded. You were there weren’t you Peg?”

“I was in Yarmouth town hall.” She said. “Me and dozens of others, some of them had kids at Dunkirk… Oh! You can’t imagine the fear. When Bob and the others took off to go get them… We thought…” She went quiet suddenly at the memory.

“Well…” Bob continued “The ferries were the obvious places to be, for a commanding type, but Ross preferred to take his smaller boat between the larger vessels and organise them, prepare them for what was to come. I can still remember the scream of shells falling from those dive bombers. And the ferries so valuable to us, the the only supply vessels we have… In the thick of it… Men out the re in the darkness in anything that would float… Cramming kids onboard. Those poor boys who’d been out there days, wounded, terrified. I remember boats going down, who knows how many souls lost, but none of our boats went under…

He didn’t sleep for the first three nights I reckon. They were the worst, crowding and panic to get on the boats. And the poor ones left behind for the next night… We knew we wouldn’t see some of them again… I remember having to pull him into a cabin with my own hands and make him sleep for a few hours…And he was right back to it as soon as we’d let him… All nine nights, ferrying kids. He wouldn’t leave a man behind. He landed and pulled wounded boys off the beach… Packed them onto that little boat of his…”

Bob blinked his eyes, suddenly emotional. “It’s why I had to enlist… Seeing all them kids out there dying in an old man’s war… It wasn’t right.”

“Well… You’ve certainly paid your dues love.” Said Peg, with tears in her eyes. “ God willing no one else has to pay such a price.”

Lila was astonished. Ned… _Her_ Ned, was a war hero?

“ When Your Mr. Ross got back he collapsed from exhaustion and spent a week at the Doctor Alterman’s house recovering.” Said Peggy. “We thought he might be done for.”

“We wanted to get him a medal but he wouldn’t have it. He said If I breathed a word of his rallying the fleet to anyone he’d deny everything and call me mad!” Bob laughed. “I think most people know about it. But we take care of our own here, he didn’t want a fuss, no one made a fuss. He keeps to himself and we leave him be… There were many heroes at Dunkirk and most of them go unsung.”

“He was in the Great War.” She said “He was in The Holy Land.”

“Hmm? Thats interesting… I was in France myself.” Said Bob sadly. “ And now my eldest boy is in Asia… A war for every generation.” He sighed.

“He’s building a bomb shelter Dad!” Said Jack, who was now looking more at ease as he sat on his father’s lap, mindful of his stumps.

“Oh? Is that so? Maybe we should think about it… You can’t be too careful these days.”

“I should get back.” She said. He’ll be wondering where I am… Thank you for the lunch Peggy!” She smiled at the woman, who looked a little less shaken than she had.

“You’re welcome dear. You see that you eat later also you hear? You still need a lot more meat on them bones!”

“Yes Mrs!” She hopped off the chair

“ Nice to meed you Chick!” Called Bob. “Thanks for bringing Jack home!”

As she walked home she tried to imagine Ned, quiet and retiring Ned , who never raised his voice, leading a fleet of fishing vessels across the channel, saving hundreds of soldiers. Then man she knew and the man Bob had described didn’t seem like the same person. It was only a year ago.

She wondered if Ned and Doctor Alterman were friends. He had lived with her for a week while he recovered after all… But no… They seemed professional… She wondered If Ned had any friends really.

When she got home Jerry was gone and Ned was still digging. She watched him a while, sitting on a tree stump.

“What…” He gasped as he swung the shovel, dripping sweat “was the problem… With Jack?”

“His Dad came home.” She told him.

“And?”

“The German’s cut his legs off.” she informed him bluntly.

He stopped digging and stared at her. He looked momentarily horrified before the mask was back on.

“Both of them?”

“Yup… He didn’t tell ‘em either.”

Ned started digging once more. “No wonder the boy was upset.” He said.

Lila was painfully aware that Ned and Bob Browne knew each other… Could Bob be described as Ned’s friend? She didn’t think so. It sounded like they only really spent time together at Dunkirk.

She knew, somehow, that she had best not mention Dunkirk to him... Or anything else to do with the war.

Ned didn’t mention it again, but he seemed distracted for the rest of the afternoon.

Later she couldn’t help but remember what he’d told her about commanding armies in the desert… She watched him as he read in the candlelight, the shadows playing on his strange face. She wondered what else he’d done in his life, done and seen and experienced that had made him so sad and wise. He didn’t read to her that night, he was absorbed in his book. So she crept off to bed quietly.

That night she dreamed of Sister Nora and her canes, and bombs, and hiding under beds… and bone saws…And the dark ocean full of screaming babies.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning he was gone early. Lila found a note on the table

_**Gone to the farm. Be back soon.** _

When he returned he had a brown paper package under his arm, which he handed to her. 

“From Peggy” he said “For school.”

Lila was going to start the new term in the village next month, at the same school that Harris and Jack went to. She knew she wouldn’t be able to attend in overalls or shorts, but had assumed she’d make do with her old Mercy House uniform. 

Her eyes widened in astonishment as she opened the package and spread the contents on the table.

There were three thick, calico dresses. One blue with short puffed sleeves and a tartan collar, one long sleeved, pink, navy and yellow check with a ruffle, and another in the same pattern but in green with a white collar. They were big for her… long, she could tell they’d fall below her knees, they had thick wide hems, long cuffs and smocking for growing room…They all had neat rows of covered buttons. 

Buttons were expensive… Calico was expensive... There was so _much_ fabric in them… She couldn’t believe they were hers.

Ned laughed at her. “Don’t look so surprised! Did you think I’d send you to school in those rags you arrived in? I asked Peggy to sew them on her machine for you.”

“You… You bought these for me?” She felt a large lump in her throat growing.

“Of course, I wouldn’t ask her to do it for free.”

He gave a sharp gasp and tensed up as she put her arms around his waist and hugged him. Then, embarrassed, she took a step backwards and burst into tears.

“They’re…B…Beautiful” She sobbed, with her hands over her mouth.

She had been thankful. So, so thankful for everything she’d received since arriving. Her bed, her trunk, her room, the second hand clothes from Peggy and the boys… The old bike from Mr O’Sullivan…All of it was more than she deserved in a hundred years. But these… These were _new_ … Made just for _her_ … Bought with money for _her_.

 _Like she mattered_.

She was horrified that the more she tried to stop crying the worse it got. She pressed her hands over her mouth… A feeling of rising hysteria grew in her chest as she thought of the threadbare things she had always worn at Mercy House… The stained and faded rags that she thought of when she thought of the word _clothing_ , that didn’t keep her warm even in summer.

Then Ned did something He’d never done before… He touched her… He put his hand on her head...Then he lifted her up, and he put her in his lap, and sat silently at the table while she wept.

Eventually she came back to herself and heard Kalbi whimpering and anxious …She realised she had stopped crying and was resting her head on his thin shoulder. She could hear his heart thumping steadily. They stayed like that for a long while. He never moved. The clock ticked, the dog whimpered, the chickens clucked outside.

“I never had a friend” She whispered. “Before you.”

“I’m sorry Habibi.” He said softly. “You deserved so much better.”

“So did you.” She said. Knowing in her heart it was true.


End file.
